


Toxic

by VoteSaxon45



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, The Master is funny when he's drunk, yummy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoteSaxon45/pseuds/VoteSaxon45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where the Master is traveling with the Doctor in the TARDIS. The Master finds the Doctor's secret store of liquor and goes to town. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toxic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back! I hope you enjoy this! Post what you think in the comments :D

The Master swung into the control room, face ruddy and singing loudly with a bottle in his hand. The Doctor whirled around, bushy eyebrows knit together on his forehead, and his lips formed a question before the psychopath dropped the empty bottle and snatched the Doctor’s hands, clumsily whirling him around the room and singing drunkenly. The Doctor recognized the tune from his year on the Valiant, but the Master’s singing was only mildly annoying. “Master, what’ve you done?” he demanded crossly, glaring down at the shorter man. Squinting up at the taller man, the Master smushed his face together and leaned in close, murmuring with vile breath, “I found your hnghnuhm.”

The Doctor frowned. “My what?”

“Your hnghnuhm.”

“Master, you’re not making any sense.”

“The-the fuckin’… drinky stuff. Yummy. Yummy, yummy, yummy.” The Master giggled and wrapped his arms around the Doctor, squeezing him tightly with a big, childish smile. “You’re big,” he murmured into the other Time Lord’s coat. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he was enjoying this, perhaps a bit too much. “Am I?” he inquired, egging the Master on. 

“Big and little. Why are you both? You can’t be both! You have to pick one.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Plucking at the Doctor’s pinstriped suit, the Master leaned in, just a hairsbreadth away from the material, and huffed with displeasure. “You’re a fuckin’ stick man. Like a matchstick. Can I light your hair on fire? It already looks like it’s on fire, but I wanna light it on real fiery… shit. That would be fun!”

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor pushed the Master away. “How much of my alcohol did you drink?” he demanded, taking the Master by the shoulders to keep him in one place. Instead of answering directly, the Master booped the Doctor’s nose with a concentrated frown. “Master, how much?”

“Dunno. There was an assbunch. Some shit tasted funny, but it made my insides all warm.”

“How much?”

“Mph,” the Master grunted, planting his face into the Doctor’s chest. With a loud sigh, the Doctor wrapped an arm around the Master’s shoulders and lead him to the game room, where the Doctor had carefully locked up his alcohol supply, which he only kept for guests and the occasional small drink and hadn’t touched in years. When he reached the cupboard where the drink was kept, he found that the lock had been picked with a paperclip lying on the floor nearby. Littering the floor were many, many bottles, provoking another loud sigh from the Doctor. The Master dropped to his knees and thrust his head into the cupboard, and his voice echoed oddly when he spoke from inside of it. “Yummy!” he squealed. The Doctor grabbed the collar of his jacket and gently pulled him to his feet. “Come on, Master. You should stay in bed,” he urged.

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are. Bed is nice and warm, very comfy.”

“I want the drinky stuff.”

“There’s none left.”

“Why?”

“You drank it all, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re pretty, like a lady,” the Master blurted. Taken aback, the Doctor’s eyes widened and he looked down at the Master with shock. “A what?”

“A lady. A pretty lady. You have pretty… fuckin’ lips. Can I touch them?”

“Erm, no. I don’t think so, Master.”

“Why? I bet they’re soft.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Let me touch.”

“No.”

“Fuckin’ touchy.”

“No touchy, Master.”

“Pleeeeease?”

With a loud huff, the Doctor resignedly nodded and bent down a little bit. “All right, fine,” he muttered in irritation. Whatever he’d thought had been cute or funny before was quickly turning annoying, and he wanted to get the Master in bed and asleep until the drunkenness wore off. The Master raised his fingers as if to touch the Doctor’s lips, but then they quickly darted around and curled into the hair on the back of the Doctor’s head, and the Doctor felt his lips abruptly smashed against the other Time Lord’s with no finesse whatsoever. Squealing in shock, the Doctor flailed about until the Master released him with a big grin. “Yummy,” he informed. The Doctor frowned deeply and scrubbed his lips against his sleeve, but he couldn’t help but like the kiss… just a little bit. Although, he knew that it didn’t really count, since the Master was intoxicated. Nothing else that they did would count, then, would it? Technically, the Doctor and the drunken Master could do whatever they liked, and it wouldn’t really count – as long as it was consensual on both sides. The Doctor couldn’t think of a reason it wouldn’t be, but the Master distracted him before he could think through it any further. There was a hand on his crotch, and the Doctor yanked away, gasping in shock and feeling something in his trousers stir. “Master!” he reprimanded indignantly. The Master looked up at him with a pouty face that was asking, what have I done wrong?, and the Doctor felt the need to explain himself. “You can’t-can’t do that!” he cried. 

“Why not? You liked it.”

“Wh-that doesn’t count! Not while you’re in this state!” However, the Doctor was secretly thinking to himself that he might enjoy a little drunken sex. Too bad there wasn’t any liquor left for him, though. The Master had drunk it all. “Why were you picking that lock in the first place?” the Doctor demanded warily. The Master made an odd face and looked down to examine his nails. “To piss you off,” he replied honestly. The Doctor scoffed. “Well, it certainly worked!”

“Let me touch your… your fuckin’ thing-thing.”

“My ‘thing-thing’?”

“Your little… fuckin’ Tutti Frutti.”

“Wha-Oi! It’s not little, and it’s not a Tutti Frutti! And watch your language! I’m getting tired of all this cursing!”

“Prove it. I wanna touch it.”

“Absolutely not!”

“You can touch mine!”

“Why would I want that?”

“You’d like it. It’s fuckin’ big. You wanna see?”

Before the Doctor could protest, the Master was shoving his trousers down to his knees, followed by his pants, leaving his cock dangling out. However hard the Doctor tried to look away, he found that his eyes were glued to it, and his trousers were twitching in an indecorous manner. “Master! Put your trousers back on, right now!” he commanded, his voice breaking a bit. The Master grinned, put his fists on his hips, and swung his hips back and forth, watching the Doctor’s eyes follow until he was forced to look away, blushing furiously. “You like my ding-dong, you like my ding-dong, you like my ding-dong!” he sang in a telltale fashion. If it was possible, the Doctor blushed harder.

“Put your trousers back on!”

“I wanna see yours! It’s not fair if I don’t, because you’ve already seen mine.”

“I’m not showing you that! It’s private!”

The Master grinned lopsidedly and stumbled closer, his hand finding a clumsy grip on the soft bulge in the Doctor’s trousers that made the Doctor twitch and hold his breath in his throat. A sloppy, wet kiss was placed on the Doctor’s throat, and he pushed the Master away, breath stuttering. Frowning, the Master bared his teeth and bit the air in front of the Doctor’s nose. With a roll of his eyes, the Doctor began to usher the Master out of the game room before the madman dropped to his knees, yanked the Doctor’s trousers off, and planted his mouth directly on the bulge in the Doctor’s pants. With a light gasp, the Doctor resisted the urge to lace his fingers into the Master’s hair and managed to push him away, secretly cursing himself. “S-stop that!” he howled. Another valiant effort by the Master, and the Doctor gave up completely. He let a sigh escape his lips as the Master’s tongue wetted the fabric of his briefs, and then squeaked when the Master jerked his pants down to his ankles and grinned madly at the sight of the Doctor’s cock. “Yummy!” he exclaimed, making the Doctor’s entire body pulse with heat from something like embarrassment. “Don’t say that, it’s a big turn-off,” the taller Time Lord muttered, but was quickly cut off by the Master wrapping his lips around and sucking loudly on the Doctor’s ever-hardening cock. “Oh, Rassilon,” he breathed, fueling the Master on to even more wonderful things. His tongue danced around the head of the Doctor’s cock with a grace that the Doctor didn’t think he possessed in this state, but he wasn’t complaining or questioning. If the Master really were sober, he wouldn’t be sucking the Doctor’s cock under any circumstances. While the Doctor leaned against a pool table for support, the Master worked hard, wet noises escaping his mouth as he took the Doctor deeper and deeper into his throat. He mumbled something unintelligible, but the Doctor didn’t even worry about what he’d said; the pleasure was too overwhelming. “Oh God, yes,” the Doctor hissed, gritting his teeth together and breathing heavily through them. This pleased the Master very much, and he bobbed his head quickly, making the Doctor’s thin hips buck wildly, his body tensing and odd, strangled noises escaping his tight throat. When the Master pulled off of the Doctor, his mouth made a wet popping noise and he stood, much to the Doctor’s disappointment. “But-“ He was cut off by the Master’s finger pressed against his protesting lips. “Yummy Doctor-boy. I wanna fuck you,” he drawled, suddenly very out of his intoxicated character with lust. His speech was still slurred, but his actions and words weren’t as childish as they were before; the Doctor didn’t really mind. He was pushed back onto the pool table and he spread his legs for the Master to step in between them. Instead of readying his cock to push inside of the Doctor, the man dropped to his knees and nuzzled the Doctor’s balls out of the way. His tongue flicked out and tasted his rim, making the Doctor convulse with that one sweet moment of hot pleasure. Looking up past the Doctor’s hardened cock and slim body, the Master grinned, a bit of drool running down his chin. “Good little Doctor thingy,” he praised. The Doctor frowned deeply and gently swatted the Master’s head. “Oi! Don’t call me a ‘thingy’,” he commanded. The Master stuck his tongue out at him, and then used it to prod around the Doctor’s rim once more. All protests were gone from his mind in a moment, and the Doctor laid his head back on the pool table, letting the waves of pleasure wash over him. That hot, sweet tongue darting around, teasing him, and then flicking inside for just a second before repeating it all over. Finally, the tongue delved deep inside the Doctor, making his body tense and his back arch, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth stretching open as he cried out, “Oh, yes!”

The Master’s tongue thrusted in and out of him, provoking exquisite pleasure coursing through ever part of his body, his throat making strangled gurgling noises of pure pleasure as the drunken Time Lord worked his magic with that talented tongue. Once he was deemed wide enough, the Master took his face from between the Doctor’s legs and settled his hips where his mouth once was. The Master teased the Doctor once again by rutting the head of his swollen cock by the Doctor’s slickened entrance, and then across his balls and back to the beginning. His tongue dangled out of his mouth as he looked down at his work with absolute concentration. “So soft…” he gasped before leaning down and sloppily kissing the Doctor’s neck again. Instead of pulling away at the unwelcome, wet sensation, the Doctor gasped and stretched his neck out longer, which provoked the Master to finally enter him slowly, cruelly, with first just the tip of his cock and then, inch by inch, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck…” the Master moaned into the flesh of the Doctor’s throat. At this point, the Doctor barely even noticed the language, and was about three seconds away from letting a torrent of curses spill off of his own tongue, which he knew the Master would enjoy greatly. “Go fas… go faster,” the Doctor panted, and the Master giddily complied. His hips instantly sped up and he laced his fingers with the Doctor’s, pinning both of their hands to the pool table on either side of the Doctor’s head. Sweat glistened on the thin Time Lord’s body, reflecting the light in a way that caught the Master’s attention exceptionally, but his hips seemed to move on their own. With a guttural moan that the Doctor recognized oh so well, the Master’s hips went even faster, and he managed to speed up while also burying himself fully inside the Doctor with every thrust. Sweat dripped from his body and splashed on the Doctor’s taut stomach, heightening the Doctor’s already nearly unbearable senses. He felt like his entire body was on fire, everything was tingling like a foot just woken up from falling asleep, arrows of exquisite pleasure shooting from his cock to his head, or from his head to his cock, or from anywhere that the Master’s lips and tongue touched to his cock and his head at the same time. The Doctor had dissolved into moans, gasps, groans, and curses, while the Master was moaning, cursing, and grunting with the exertion of moving his hips so expertly. He dropped to his elbows, skin nearly pressed against the Doctor’s, and covered every inch of skin he could find with kisses, sending tendrils of ecstasy through the Doctor’s body. He was shaking violently, and he knew he was unbearably close to coming. “G-good little… fuckin’ Doc-Doctor pet, hm? All y-yummy and so… so soft and you look so p-pretty, like an angel… with the light… my angel D-Doctor… I want y… I want you to c-come for me, pretty Doctor pet… mine, mine, you’re mine, mine, mine…” the Master grunted, ending his sentence at madness. It brought the Doctor over the edge nonetheless. He arched his back, hips bucking wildly and his come shooting into the air, splattering the Master’s chest and stomach. His throat hurt from screaming so loudly, but it was more than worth it. This was the best fuck he’d had in all of his lifetimes, and he intended to let the Master know it. His fingers clenched painfully around the Master’s, whose own fingers retorted with a bone-crushing grip, both their knuckles white. With a loud howl, the Master gritted his teeth and thrust himself deep into the Doctor, coming right there inside of him. When he was finished, the Doctor looked up at him with fuzzy vision and thought the Master looked beautiful. The way the light reflected off of his sweat-soaked body gave him an aura of purity. His hair was matted to his ruddy face, and there was a light in his eyes that the Doctor hadn’t seen since they were kids. Not malicious, not cold, not sadistic. It was indescribable and breathtakingly beautiful. Breathing heavily, the Master was looking down on the Doctor, eyes dissecting him in the same way that the Doctor’s eyes was dissecting the other. Slowly, softly, the Master pressed his lips against the Doctor’s and closed his eyes, kissing him with a tenderness that sent fire coursing through the Doctor’s bones and muddled his mind beyond any thought whatsoever except the gentleness of it, how filled with love it was. When the Master pulled away, the Doctor’s hearts sank at the thought that this mood was only as long as the drunkenness that came with it. Chest heaving, the Doctor breathed, “I love you,” and was met with another soft kiss, and then the Master murmuring into his mouth: “I love you, too.”

 

In the morning, the Master woke up with a splitting migraine and the drums throbbing in his skull. He found the Doctor’s arms wrapped around his waist, the taller Time Lord’s chest and stomach pressed against his back as they slept in his bed. Although it was cute how the Doctor’s face smushed against the pillow while he slept, and how adorable those little snuffling noises he made in his sleep were, the Master was in no mood to appreciate how lovely the Doctor could seldom be. Instead, he thrust a sharp elbow into the Doctor’s stomach, waking him up rather rudely, and dragged himself out of bed, feeling his stomach roiling and bubbling. He knew he was going to throw up, but why the hell would he throw up somewhere that the Doctor could easily clean it up if he could be a perfectly good nuisance? Instead, he emptied his stomach on the carpet right next to the bed, and then he clutched his head and shuffled through the TARDIS and into the kitchen, where he piled together a breakfast of nearly raw eggs, banana ice cream, and burnt bacon. With no regard to how horrific the food tasted, the Master scarfed it down and finished moments before the Doctor dragged his feet into the kitchen, clutching his stomach with an icy glare at the Master. “That was rude,” he growled. Instead of answering, the Master flicked a gob of banana ice cream at him and resumed stuffing his face. He tried to remember what had happened last night, but he was drawing a complete blank. Although, he was getting the sense that something absolutely amazing happened, and he desperately wanted to know what it was, if it really was so good. “What the hell happened last night?” he grumbled through a mouthful of eggs. 

The Doctor’s face nearly turned crimson and he turned away from the Master very quickly, but his shoulders were also an embarrassed shade of red, making the Master frown with suspicion. “Tell me what happened, Doctor,” he commanded darkly, ready to fire an entire egg at the other Time Lord. The Doctor just shook his head firmly, and the Master released his ammunition, the yolk splattering all over the Doctor’s back. “Oi!” the Doctor shouted indignantly, whirling around to face the Master with a scowl. “What the hell was that for?”

“You should know by now to give me what I want or be punished.”

“Oh, and an egg to the back is the best punishment you can think of?”

“At the moment, yes. Keep in mind that I’ve got a horrible headache and the drums are so loud I can hardly hear you, and I’m hungover. Why am I hungover, Doctor?”

“You broke into my liquor cabinet and drank it all.”

“I remember picking the lock, hoping that I would find something to piss you off. I considered smashing one of the bottles over your head, and I’m regretting that decision now.”

“I bet you are,” the Doctor muttered sourly. The Master smirked smugly, watching the yolk oozing down the Doctor’s pale, freckle-spattered back. 

“Tell me what happened, now.”

“You can’t hurt me, Master. Not while the TARDIS still hates you. Perhaps she wouldn’t hate you if you hadn’t tortured her, hm? Well, she wouldn’t let you hurt me anyways, but, you know. A word to the wise – don’t torture the Doctor’s TARDIS in your lunatic quest to rule the world.”

The Master rolled his eyes and threw his spoon at the Doctor. There was a dull thunking noise when it hit him solidly in the head, and the Doctor again whirled around, his face now crimson with barely-contained rage. Of course, the Doctor looking like that was one of the Master’s greatest turn-ons, and he cursed that now. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the Doctor screeched, one hand rubbing the back of his head and the other clutching tightly to the knife that he’d been using to prepare his own breakfast. With his mouth full of food, the Master grinned smugly, and saw the Doctor’s knife hand trembling violently. Oh, he could just imagine all the exceptional things the Doctor could do with that knife, or what the Master himself could do with it. Just the thought made the Master squirm with excitement, but he contained it with his impeccable self-control and met the Doctor’s infuriated gaze evenly. “So, tell me what happened,” he inquired nonchalantly, cutting a bite of egg off with his fork. The Doctor eyed the fork warily, still rubbing the welt on the back of his head. “Nothing happened. Leave it alone. If you’re good, I’ll tell you later.”

“You imbecile.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“Why was there come on my chest when I woke up?”

The Doctor seemed to flinch, and the Master grinned, sensing that he was getting somewhere, so he pressed further. “Whose come was it? Go on, tell the truth.”

“Mine.”

“And why, pray tell, was your come on my chest?”

“Because you were drunk and horny, and it wasn’t my fault. I just went along with it.”

“Hm. Did I say anything that I wouldn’t normally?” the Master demanded insistently. The Doctor seemed to stiffen, his face melting into a love struck expression, but then he turned around and shook his head, and the Master decided not to prod any further. He didn’t want to know.


End file.
